


Normality is a fine ideal

by Alaylith



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, The Great Mouse Detective (1986)
Genre: Community: watsons_woes, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Ficlet, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 4,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25017916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alaylith/pseuds/Alaylith
Summary: “Normality is a fine ideal for those who have no imagination.” – Carl JungJust my little collection of drabbles for the Watson's Woes Community and their July Writing Prompts.
Comments: 35
Kudos: 25
Collections: Watson's Woes JWP Collection: 2020





	1. Machinery

As they were strolling down the street they stopped in front of a shop window where a neat little machinery was displayed - a toy with gears and mechanics and clever steps to transport a marble in a neverending circle.

Holmes has been describing the calculations, mechanisms and the working of all parts involved quite extensively to Watson, who has been listening with half an ear and humming every once in a while.  
Finally Holmes turns to Watson and scowls good naturedly. "Watson, are you even listening? It is such a neat little work and you look quite unimpressed."

Watson chuckles. "I am sorry, my dear Holmes. Of course it is quite interesting and yet it is no more than a toy.  
I find it way more impressive that a man might use his mind in similiar precise ways and there is only one man I know which is capable of doing so.  
That is worth more than any pretty toy made of metal and wood."

Holmes looks at the doctor in surprise, but then quirks a quick smile, before linking their arms together and leading his friend further down the road, pointing out his deductions of the people around them.  
And Watson listens with a smile.


	2. The Most Grievous Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How fear can cause the most grievous pain.
> 
> Second prompt:  
> Phobias Redux:: Let’s revisit an old prompt. Either Watson or Holmes has a phobia. Who is it, why do they have it, and how did the other discover it?

The clock strikes two o'clock in the night as I sit at my friend's bedside in a silent vigil, keeping a careful eye on him in his sleep. The last few days have been exhausting, almost unreal like no other case has ever been for us.  
There had been a slight foreboding which I ignored, something I will regret for the rest of my days...

_I could see the unease in Watson's eyes as I mentioned we would be boarding a boat, but I did not pay attention to him nor my instincts. The case was more important and all I needed to know was that Watson would follow me._  
_My loyal boswell always did._

The case itself was nothing special, just another little piece in this grand puzzle of life we played, but all of that changed when I realised something about him I never thought possible.  
How such a small moment, such small occurence, could change us in such a way that I can not completely grasp the consequences.

_"Holmes!" Never had I heard his voice filled with such terror than at this moment when he fell overboard and crashed into the dark water. It took the few seconds for him to resurface and to trash helplessly for me to finally understand which I should have seen from the beginning._ _Which I should have known about my friend and should have considered more than any data of my cases._  
_Watson was afraid of water. He also could not swim._

I can not remember much of the night when the boat sank, all of it has turned into a blurr of foggy memories, but I remember the coldness of the water and the biting wind.  
I also will forever remember his screams.

_"Watson!" I used all my strength to push through the water, to reach his trashing form and my heart clenched everytime I heard his fearful and desperate moans whenever his head came up for air._  
_"Watson!" I finally reached him and grabed his arm, pulling him towards me. I will forever remember the exression of terror I saw in his eyes._

I hear a murmur and lean forward to press a gentle hand to my friend's shoulder as he grows restless, a frightening whimper leaving his lips.  
"Hush, Holmes," I murmur. "Everything's alright."  
"Watson...," he murmurs fearfully as he turns towards my voice in his sleep.

I always thought that shame would be my foremost emotion when he finds out about my phobia of water.  
Yet it is this most grievous pain I feel as I realize just how much fear it actually causes **him**.


	3. He who envies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He who envies others does not obtain peace of mind." - Buddha  
> Moriarty, Holmes and Watson on that fateful day In Switzerland.
> 
> Third prompt: Green Grow the Rushes, Oh!: Your inspiration today is anything green: grass, leaves, emeralds, a visiting alien, someone who is green with envy…

Two men stand opposite each other surrounded by the lively greens of nature as the great Reichenbachfall thunders nearby.

Moriarty feels small tendrils of envy as he observes Holmes writing a letter to the doctor. He envies the sleuth for having someone to leave a note for, while he has nothing. Moriarty will die after having lost everything he values, while Holmes will die to save everything _he_ values.

Holmes in turn also feels a little envy as he lies down the letter and turns towards his enemy, who stands silent and alone against the green background. Holmes has to leave so much behind, most importantly his most beloved friend, while Moriarty can leave this world without any painful regrets.

Hours later, as the setting sun paints the green landscape of Switzerland a glowing red, Watson only feels grief as he sobs into his shaking hands.


	4. Silence on a rainy day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silence on a rainy day.
> 
> Fourth Prompt: Hot July brings cooling showers, apricots and gillyflowers: Use two or more of the following in your work today: July, cooling showers, apricots, gillyflowers (which include carnations, stock, and wallflower). Poem is by Sara Coleridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had absolutely no idea what to do with this prompt, these sentences were all I got after thinking about it for several hours... :(

They are on one of their rare vacations in July and are taking a stroll down the countryside when they are surprised by sudden rain clouds. They find protection beneath a great tree, leaning their backs against the rough bark side by side with carnations growing around their feet. No words are spoken as they watch the cooling shower, both content in the presence of the other. There is nothing else in that one moment as their shoulders touch lightly and silence embraces them in a well-known embrace of their long years of friendship.

That's all they need.


	5. Too weak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a light at the corners of the darkness.
> 
> Fifth prompt: Picture of a dark cave

_I can see the light at the corners of the darkness, so bright and majestic. It is close and yet it is far out of my reach, no matter how much I stretch my hand._ _The darkness, this all-consuming darkness pulls at me, the ground rough and bumpy beneath my knees, never allowing me to find my feet._

_Oh and the echoes! They are all around me, so loud, just so overwhelmingly loud and neverending, they distract me from the light every time I try to concentrate. I can feel the echoes vibrating in my bones, making me shiver and I desperately scramble over the sharp rocks towards the light. All my senses are constantly attacked, I am filled with so many emotions - curiosity, pain, love, fear, loyalty - that I can never concentrate on the light for too long, my mind getting distracted by all that is around me._

_There is just so much in this darkness and at the same time, there is nothing._

_Too much for me to ever reach the light, even though it is so close! So close that I can almost..._

"Watson!" Holmes' voice pulls me from the depths of my mind. "It is so easy, old fellow, can't you see?" he asks me exasperated as he realizes I am not able to follow his deductions once again.  
"Of course I see it, Holmes," I answer with a tired smile.

_I am just too weak to reach the light as you do._


	6. Self-defence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self-defence is the use of force to protect yourself against someone who is attacking you.
> 
> 6th prompt: Nighttime Doings:: It's the middle of the night. Why is screaming coming from Baker Street?

Constable Enfield was just at the corner of Baker Street when a sudden scream tore through the quiet night. It was almost inhuman, like the wailing of an animal, that shocked Enfield to the bones. Another scream followed and he scrambled for his whistle, running down the street until he reached the house with the open window through which the screams escaped.

He barely registered the _221b_ over the open door and ran up the stairs, crashing into the sitting room on the first floor. Before he was able to take in the whole scene a battered, bleeding, moaning man crawled over to him and gripped his legs with shaking hands. "Help me, help me, he is mad! A madman!" Enfield lifted his eyes to see a gentleman, dressed in evening attire as if he had just returned from the theatre, standing in front of the fireplace. Only the blood on his fists and the expression on his face marked him as the so-called madman.

It took a moment for Enfield to recognize Mr Sherlock Holmes beneath that facade of madness.

"Constable, take that filth out of my house," Mr Holmes growled and turned away without a second glance to enter the bedroom connected to the sitting room. Never having dealt with Mr Holmes personally, but well knowing the stories that circled the yard, Enfield made the wise decision of just taking the injured man and to let another deal with the private detective. As he led the man through the hallway they passed the second door of the bedroom, which was slightly ajar and allowed them to hear the quiet voices within.

"Holmes?" A weak voice filled with pain asked and Mr Holmes responded gently. "Do not speak, old fellow, everything is alright. Now let me see your injuries."

Enfield scoffed at the later verdict about the beating being an act of self-defence - Mr Holmes had not been in the house when the thug broke in and attacked the doctor. It was no self-defence when Mr Holmes grabbed the thug as he tried to escape from the house, pulled him back up into the sitting room and to beat him up.

Months later, after having worked several cases with Mr Holmes and his doctor, Enfield finally did understand just how accurate that verdict had been after all.


	7. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A list of clutter
> 
> 7th prompt: TICKY BOXES FOR THE WIN!!!:: You voted for it - you got it! Let your work today include a check box, tally mark, or other mark that records a preference.

As he holds the bat's list in his hands Dawson wonders just what kind of creature is capable of putting a little girl on such a list to be tallied like some ordinary clutter. When he meets Ratigan and looks into those dark eyes, Dawson knows the answer.

A monster.


	8. Monkshood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This pretty-looking flower actually means 'hatred' and 'be cautious'.
> 
> 8th prompt: A Floral Bouquet: Let anything involving flowers inspire you today. Wedding bouquet, funeral wreath, hay fever - all of flora is yours to explore!

Mary is immersed in her book when the doorbell rings and she can hear their maid answering the door. A couple of minutes later the maid knocks and enters the room. "What is it, Jenny? A visitor?" Mary asks with a smile but frowns when she sees the bemused expression on Jenny's face. "No madam, it is a delivery for you. It is just..." Jenny hesitates and Mary slowly raises to her feet. "It is a funeral wreath, madam," Jenny finally says in a whisper and Mary blinks in surprise. She and John do not have many acquaintances, but all of them were well the last they heard.

Mary follows her maid to the entrance hall where a small wreath rests on their sideboard. Mary is deeply surprised to see none of the usual flowers used for mourning. The wreath is made with monkshood. Her unease rising, Mary picks up the simple white card which is tucked between the flowers and turns it over to read the inscription. And her heart stops.

_In memory of John H. Watson_

For a very short moment, everything fades away as Mary reads those horrible words before the world comes back into focus. John left for a patient just this morning, in good health and spirit, so the wreath can not be a sincere expression of sympathy.

She looks once more at the monkshood, a flower which, no matter how pretty, actually means 'hatred' and 'be cautious'. It can only be a warning and she knows exactly how to deal with such. "Jenny, run and get me a cab, now!" Mary carefully wraps the wreath in one of her shawls, then leaves the house to get inside the cab her maid stopped for her.

There is only one place - one man - Mary has to see now.

"To Baker Street, as quick as you can!"


	9. Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I never thought I would regret saving a man's life.
> 
> Prompt 09: Basic Chemistry: Describe an event in the early days of Holmes and Watson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty frustrated with this, rewrote it like three times and still not really happy with it. :/

There is one occurrence from our earlier days that will stay with me for the rest of my life.

On one of our first strolls, we witnessed an attack in a shadowed alley we passed. Two men were fighting, one of them a well-dressed gentleman and I saw the glint of a knife before it disappeared in the gentleman's silhouette. The attacker pulled his bloodied knife free and fled as his victim fell to his knees. Holmes ran past without a glance at the injured to follow him and I was torn between my wish to assist Holmes and my responsibility as a doctor. In the end, I knew that I would never be able to follow Holmes with my leg and that I would be more useful to the injured.

I knelt at the man's side and took a gentle hold of his shoulders. "It is alright, sir, I am a doctor. Let me see, I can help you," I murmured those words, words that I had spoken so many times, and the man lifted his head to look at me. I only saw his sharp eyes for a moment, before they fixed on something behind me. Before I could turn around my world turned black. I woke up to Holmes' worried face above my own, his handkerchief pressed to the bleeding wound on the back of my head.

There was no trace of the man we tried to help or of anyone else. The police never found anything, as neither Holmes nor I could give a good description of those men and I remember how Holmes wore a thoughtful look on his face for days afterwards as if there was a riddle he could not solve. Today I am aware that he made his own inquiries at the time, but he never found out anything.

Over the years I tried to recall the face of the injured man but was never able to. Until the day I saw him rush into the train station as Holmes and I were on our flight to the continent.

I never thought I would regret saving a man's life, knowing that had I not interfered that night all those years ago, James Moriarty would not have been alive to kill my dearest friend.


	10. White Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It is a game," my new flatmate said.
> 
> Prompt 10: Let's Play a Game: Today's prompt is another popular one from a previous JWP: games.

When I first moved into the flat I noticed a table with a map of London in one corner of the living room.

"It is a game," my new flatmate said as he noticed my curiosity. There were small black boxes placed on the map like buildings and black pieces of a chess set were scattered between them. "I will explain it to you one evening, doctor, if you so wish," he continued with a sharp smile. "I would be delighted," I answered with a nod and continued to unpack my books.

But for whatever reason my eyes were drawn to the solitary piece that stood at the side of the map, higher than any other, it's colour was almost glowing compared to the other pieces. Just who was that white knight I wondered and decided to voice that question first to Moriarty when he explained his game to me.


	11. It could be beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It could be beautiful, Holmes muses.
> 
> Prompt 13: Picture Prompt: Let the following image inspire your work today.  
> https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2019/05/21/06/54/light-4218375_1280.jpg

It could be beautiful, Holmes muses as he watches the light dancing between the trees. The snow glows on the ground and small green patches of grass grow through the melting blanket. There is no sign of human or animal as far as he can see, there is only silence among the rays of sunlight.

A soft moan draws Holmes' attention to Watson, lying against his shoulder and his face is drawn into a pained frown. Holmes hushes him and presses his hand harder against the wound in Watson's side, his handkerchief already soaked in blood. It could be beautiful, Holmes muses again and rests his forehead against Watson's.

If only his boswell were awake to see it beside him.


	12. The silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The silence was always there.
> 
> Prompt 14: The Rest is Silence: Let your work today include a time when silence was essential or the main focus of attention. For example: Holmes staying silent and infuriating Watson; silence waiting for a telegram/phone call; silently waiting for a suspect...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Absolutely no idea what this is about, I had a completely different start and more importantly different end in mind... :/

Growing up there has always been sound around him - his mother's singing, his father's laughter, his brother's stories. He never feared silence as a child. After his parents' death and his brother's estrangement silence became a bitter reminder of what he had lost. The silence was painful, but he did not fear it. It was in a distant land, where silence was the difference between life and death that he first started to fear it. As he held his patients' lives in his hands, he nevertheless fought the silence with all his strength and most of the times he won.

The fear grew after he returned to London, as the silence was proof of how lost he was and that knowledge hurt more than his healing wounds. He aimlessly wandered the city, until he was found and led to where he belonged. There was silence in Baker Street, but there was so much more life his truest friend shared with him. Even in the silence, he knew that their next adventure was calling in the distance and he thought the silence forever vanished when he met his beloved wife. There was only silence at the Reichenbach Falls as he called the name of his lost friend and wished it would take him too. The pain might be less if he were unable to hear his own broken sobs.


	13. No time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time slowed down when I realized Watson was not behind me.
> 
> 24 is 48: Your prompt today is: time stretches. In honor of this prompt, you have twice as long (48 hours) before the next prompt appears. Bonus point: Write two entries for this prompt in the 48 hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly changed quotes taken from Doyle's "The Adventure of the Three Garridebs".

In an instant Killer Evans had whisked out a revolver from his breast and had fired two shots. Anticipating the move I was already moving the moment his hand twitched and sprung forward to bring down my pistol down on the man's head. It was only when I heard a faint gasp and realized that Watson was not behind me that time slowed down for me. I will never for the rest of my life forget the seconds, which felt like hours to me, as I turned around and saw my dearest friend swaying were he stood with a dizzy expression on his face. My feet felt like lead and the distance seemed endless with every step that I took closer to him until I was finally able to grasp Watson within my arms and lead him to a chair. Time came to a stop when I saw the blood and I ripped up his trousers with shaking hands. Only when I realized that the injury was minor and my Watson was well enough, did time speed up again and I was able to take a deep breath to calm my racing heart. I would - could - not lose him yet. I had no time to prepare myself for such a fate.


	14. Too much time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too much time passed as I listened to Holmes dying.
> 
> 24 is 48: Your prompt today is: time stretches. In honor of this prompt, you have twice as long (48 hours) before the next prompt appears. Bonus point: Write two entries for this prompt in the 48 hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly changed quotes taken from Doyle's "The Adventure of the Dying Detective"

"And don't budge, whatever happens-whatever happens, do you hear? Don't speak! Don't move!"  
I stayed hidden, my heart thudding in my chest, as I listened to Smith taunting my friend, Holmes begging for water and help. I could only listen as he groaned in pain and Smith finally revealed his malicious crime. Time passed slowly and it felt like an eternity that I had to stay hidden, unable to do or say anything, while Smith continued to taunt and gloat while my friend grew weaker. I wished for any kind of hint, a sign or signal of Holmes that would allow me to move, to help, to save him, but nothing came and time continued. Too much time passed as I listened to Holmes dying. There were only a few times that I felt more useless than in this instance and just when I finally decided to ignore Holmes' orders time stopped. “A match and a cigarette," Holmes suddenly spoke in his natural voice and I took a shaking breath in shock. I barely listened to the following explanations and only when he finally called my name did time speed up again and I was able to take a deep breath to calm my racing heart. I would - could - not lose him yet. I had wasted too much time before.


	15. Eyes of a Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That human has the eyes of a hunter.
> 
> Prompt 20: How To Train Your Cormorant: Watson and Holmes deal with a predatory seabird, or some other trained animal (cf. VEIL.)

My nose leads me through the throng of legs and as usual, no human takes notice of me. As long as they do not believe that I am paying any attention to them, they will also pay no attention to me, so my master taught me. He also taught me the scent of which bags were worth taking and bringing to him. I do not understand why he wants the bags from other humans, but I will only be fed if I bring those to him and as such, I do not care whose things I take. Finally, I see the black bag that I have been smelling for a while now, the scent somehow bitter and I know that this bag will be worth a lot. I can smell the owner right beside it, but he does not pay any attention to me or the bag, so I easily walk up to it, take the handle into my snout and turn around to leave with it.

I make no more than a single step when I bump into a pair of human legs that have not been there before and I look up in surprise. The eyes of this human are similar to those that I have seen glowing in dark alleys where cats were hiding or similar to those of crows flying high above their prey. These are eyes of a hunter, observing their prey and waiting for the opportunity to attack. And while my teeth are sharp and my bite is strong, I know that to this human I am the prey. I lower my ears in submission and release my hold on the bag as the human bends down to take it back. I prepare myself for the kick I believe to come, only to look up in surprise when the human bends down once more and holds out a bundle of papers to me. I recognize the scent, the most important scent to my master and cock my head in bemusement. The hunter continues to hold the papers out to me and I slowly lean forward to take them from his hand, careful to not let my teeth graze his skin. Then the hunter steps around me, handing the bag back to its' owner and they walk away, paying no further attention to me and they disappear among the other humans, their scents lost in the wind.

After I have returned to my master, who was content with he papers even though he was confused how I got them and after I had eaten my first meal in days, I wonder about that one human with those eyes. I wonder if he knew that I would be punished if I did not bring something to my master and that is why he gave me the papers in exchange for that bag. I also wonder as to what he hunts, what prey he is looking for with such eyes. Nevertheless, I pity those humans, because I know how dangerous he is. I have seen it in his eyes.


	16. Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holmes considers what he should write into his index for Hugh Hayden.
> 
> Prompt 26:  
> Good Old Index: Holmes' index is full of suggestive entries, including but not limited to Victor Lynch, the forger, a venomous lizard or gila, and Vittoria, the circus belle. Take one as a starting point, or make up your own!

_Hugh Hayden -_

Holmes looks down at the name in his index, a pen in his hand as he considers what he should write down. Just who was Hugh Hayden, what has he done, what should he be remembered for...

_"I will be famous! The great Sherlock Holmes solved my case, a case that an endless amount of people will read about when your doctor writes it up! I will be known forever!"_

The mad laughter of the man still haunts him as Hayden was dragged away by Scotland Yard, the blood of his latest victim still fresh on his hands. The case was long and difficult, he killed so many and many more were... A movement from the other chair catches Holmes' attention and he looks at Watson, who has been contemplating his notebook with unseeing eyes before he lowers his head with a sigh. "Famous, huh," he muses and looks up at Holmes with dark eyes. They stare at each other silently for a while, before Watson gets up and throws his notebook, the one with all his notes from this case, into the fire. "Fame is nothing." He walks over to the sideboard to pour them drinks and Holmes looks back down to his index.

With a firm hand, he strikes the name out several times until there is nothing left behind and puts the index away to stand at Watson's side, both not saying a word.  
There is nothing for them to say.


	17. Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was volunteering in a hospital when a man drew all attention to himself.
> 
> Prompt 29: To the Makeup Table! Focus on Holmes and/or Watson in disguise – for a case, or for any other reason.

I was volunteering in a small hospital in London when a man hobbles in with a crooked back and dirty clothes, his face hidden beneath a shock of unruly hair. He coughs into an old rag and is barely able to keep standing as the coughs shake his whole body. A nurse leads him to a chair, walking right by me and for a moment our eyes meet before he lowers his head again and allows the nurse to sit him down. I turn my back and continue with my work when there is a sudden shout. I look over my shoulder to see the man has collapsed to the ground, shaking and coughing and others hurry over to help him. I watch him writhe on the ground, gasping for breath and in all this commotion it is easy for me to sneak away and to enter the back offices without being seen.

It is hours later that I return to Baker Street, tired but victorious and I immediately go to my friend's bedroom. He had already removed the dirty clothes, brushed his hair back and is now washing the dirt from his face.

"You did well, even I was almost unable to recognize you," I say with a small laugh and Watson looks at me with a dark scowl. "It is not funny, Holmes, I absolutely do not enjoy your little dress up games. Tell me you found your evidence at least."  
I carefully place his bag on the ground and pull his stethoscope from my pocket to place it on his table, which he gave me for my disguise as a doctor. "Do not worry, old boy, I have what I need. Now Lestrade can take care of the illegal drug trade that hospital was involved in."

I watch him for a few moments, still amazed at how well he played the sick patient to draw attention to himself so I could gather my evidence. I have to chuckle again as he mumbles about bossy nurses and insufferable doctors under his breath.  
"Well, the solving of the case is not the only good thing to come from this."  
Watson looks as me curiously and I grin mischievously at him. "You finally experienced yourself just how annoying you can be, **Doctor**."

I run out of his room just in time to dodge the wet sponge he throws after me.


End file.
